Wonder and Whimsy, Fables and Folklore: The Making of a Trickster

So many of the stories I loved as a kid, that live as strands within my narrative DNA, posited that the impossible could be around any corner. That gods watched us from the stars, that three-mast pirate carracks floated above hidden, legendary leviathans, that any mighty tree was but a part of Yggdrasil. I learned that sometimes, spider bites or lightning strikes could make you special, that anyone could be a hero, that sometimes pain could alchemize into purpose. I read stories of ants and grasshoppers, scorpions and frogs, and followed those animals to the cozy Abbey of Redwall, where the morals became more complicated but no less potent.

- BY MARTIN CAHILL

As I grew older, and what I read became denser, more complex, more adult frankly, it didn't change the foundation I was borne from: that wonder was out there, magic could be felt regardless of its existence, and people would always use stories to bring those ideas to life, unconstrained by reality.

Is it any wonder, then, that when I began to write, I found myself most interested in exploring those spaces where wonder was lying in wait? In my debut book, Audition for the Fox, out now from Tachyon Publications, I found myself with the chance to revel in the storytelling that I grew up on—talking animals, whimsical prose, world-building in wondrous watercolors, being whisked away into adventure—while also engaging with narrative, craft, plot, and character with the finesse and knowledge of being an adult.

The hope with